Managed to walk into — and out of — a Leica store and only bought a pin. I really wanted to get the used Q2 Monochrome that was ‘only’ 4750 euros.
Though I did buy the Leica Academy inspiration book, online and used, after leaving. But I refuse to count it because it’s a published-based purchase!
Several years ago I posted about a “Glass Time” shortcut. When activated it opened the social media application I use to post and view photography — Glass — and then increased the brightness to 100%. The intent was to ensure I was looking at images closer to how the photographer intended.
The only issue was that I needed to remember to activate the shortcut instead of opening the application itself. This worked but was a bit clunky, and so I’ve created a more pleasant way to achieve the same thing.
Enter some Apple Shortcuts and Automations.
I wanted my screen brightness to jump to 100% whenever I opened Glass or my photo editor (Darkroom) and then drop back down to 50% once I closed them.
To make this work I had to create Apple Shortcuts and Automations. The shortcuts handle the brightness setting and the automations tell your device when to run those shortcuts. Specifically, I needed an:
The process for creating the various components was very easy. To create the underlying Apple Shortcuts:
To create the automations to trigger the different screen brightness levels:
Your Apple Shortcuts will sync between all of your Apple devices through iCloud but this will not occur with your Apple Automations. This means that you’ll need to repeat the automation steps on all of your devices that you want the automation to activate on.
I really liked Robin Wong’s reflection on why he keeps returning to the same streets to make his images.
the beauty of doing the same routines, walking the same paths is the familiarity of the location, and you know every turn and corner, you know the details inside out, so you can be prepared for the unexpected. That is also the exciting part of shooting on the streets, you will find something unusual, something you will not know will happen beforehand, and the surprise is worth the redundant process of walking the same streets all over again. […] It isn’t about finding something completely new or extra-ordinary to shoot but finding beauty in the most ordinary settings and make it worth clicking your shutter button for.[^ Emphasis added.]
Like Wong, I’ve found that familiarity can sharpen my eye. Because I walk the same places regularly, I’m able to find the images I do. Having seen the same scene hundreds of times, I can tell when something has changed or that there’s some novelty in the scene that’s before me.
To some extent I think of regularly seeing the same scenes a little like drinking whiskey. At first, whiskey just tastes hot and spicy; any differences seem more theoretical than real. But over time you notice subtle nuances and also detect rarified variances between what you’re enjoying. And you can get excited over little things that really aren’t apparent or distinguishable to someone that hasn’t built up the same kind of palate.
When you walk the same streets over and over, you develop your own sense of what should and shouldn’t be there. You can detect what’s normal or novel. By training your eye on these common spaces, you develop your style. If you need to find something novel in the same place over and over, you’ll develop a unique way of seeing the world, whereas if you’re always seeing a new place you don’t need to stretch in quite the same way — you don’t need to push yourself to develop your sense of what is visually interesting to you.
All of which is to say: from afar, street photography can look pretty dull or boring because there’s a lot of repetition. It’s exactly this repetition, however, that helps you discover the kind of photographer you are.
I’m looking forward to an iPhone upgrade year and leapfrogging to AirPods Pro 3 — hopefully this time I can get a good fit without needing third party ear tips!
I’m also curious about Apple’s new crossbody straps. Not for my phone — I haven’t used a case in years — but maybe as an adjustable strap for my smaller cameras.
There’s got to be someone who’ll review this use case, right? And if not… consider this my open call.
Back in February 2022, I made a commitment to myself. I set out to add a bit more positivity to the internet by reaching out to writers whose work inspired me, or photographers whose images resonated with me. I wanted to thank them for their efforts and let them know their work was appreciated.
It is all too common for people to move through life without peers, friends, or family recognizing the importance of their work or the ways they’ve shaped others’ lives. In my personal life, it was only after my father died that many of the kids he’d mentored reached out to me to share how he had positively affected the course of their lives. His Facebook feed was filled with comments from people who had benefitted from his generosity and kindness. But I was left wondering: had they ever told him directly about his impact? And if they had, might he have avoided his death of despair?
And I’ve seen the power of professional recognition–and felt the cost of its absence. Years ago, after a major project wrapped up, I realized I had forgotten to recognize the exemplary contribution of a junior staff member. I went back into the room to point out how critical their work had been. That small moment of recognition, as it turned out, had a profound impact on their career trajectory. And it was only after I left my last professional job that people contacted me from around Canada about how the work I produced had influenced them, their practice, and their thinking. I’ll be honest: when I left that job, I felt like I’d been writing into a void. Almost no one ever directly recognized the work I was producing or the value they placed in it.
On Glass, I try to leave a couple of comments on other photographers’ work each month. Sometimes those comments are short, like “Love the composition!👏👏👏 ,” or “Great use of tonality across the frame! 👏👏👏” Other times, when I have more bandwidth, I write longer, more substantive reflections on what I see in their images.
I think this kind of recognition matters. Too often, we wait until it’s too late to share it. Positive, explicit recognition can motivate people who may not have received much encouragement otherwise. It’s one of the many reasons why I support Neale James’ Photowalk Podcast and the community of kindness that he fosters with every single episode.
Lately I’ve been thinking about how to take this further. For me, the next step has been to begin collecting prints or zines from photographers whose work or practice I deeply admire. I’m not buying prints from the famous names you see in galleries–no Martin Parrs for me!–but photographers working in niches that speak to me. Owning their prints feels special. It’s not just me saying “great work,” it’s me saying, to them, “I value this enough to want it in my home.”
There are practical challenges with purchasing other people’s work. As we know, shipping expenses, cost of making physical artefacts, and the economic realities facing both buyers and artists can impede purchasing other creatives’ work. We can’t all afford to purchase prints regularly. But even buying one piece every year, every few years, or even once a decade can make a meaningful difference. It’s a way of supporting creativity and giving artists recognition that lasts.
What’s powerful about this isn’t only the financial support. It’s the intimacy of having someone’s work become part of your everyday life. Unlike a gallery exhibition, which is temporary and public, a print hanging in your home or office is permanent and personal. It shapes the space you live in, and every time you see it you’re reminded of the artist and the respect you have for their work.
That, to me, is one of the most profound ways we can support and recognize each other as creators. It’s something that I continue to do, and I appreciate the works of others that I have the privilege of viewing on a regular basis.
In closing, if a creator’s work inspires you then I’d strongly encourage you to leave a comment, send a note, or even consider acquiring a print. It might mean more than you know.
I’m an amateur Toronto-based documentary and street photographer, and have been making images on the street for over a decade. In the fall of 2023 I purchased a used Leica Q2. I’d wanted the camera for a while, but it wasn’t until late 2023 that I began running into situations where I’d benefit from a full-frame sensor. Since then I’ve been going out and making images with it at least once a week for hours at a time and have made tens of thousands of frames in all kinds of weather.
In this post I discuss my experiences using the Leica Q2 in a variety of weather conditions to make monochromatic JPG images. I tend to exclusively use either single-point autofocus or zone focusing, and either multi-field or highlight-weighted exposure modes, generally while using aperture priority at 1/500s to freeze action on the street. My edits to images have, previously, used Apple Photos and now rely on the Darkroom app on my iPad Pro. You can see the kinds of images that I’ve been making on my Glass profile.
Each month or so, the Photowalk podcast has been choosing a single term to inspire photographers to consider when making images. The March term was “humanity”, and my submission follows.
Text for entry:
The image can be read as speaking to the stature of man, and the forces that rise above him spiritually and physically, while living a life of being downtrodden and isolated. In a well-populated urban capital our subject is left alone with himself, save for weather damaged urban art that gestures to imagined better times and the eyes of his transitory documentarian in front of him.
He notices neither.
I’ve enjoyed a particularly productive photographic year during which I’ve (mostly) acclimated to the Leica Q2 and used it to shoot almost exclusively in black and white, and usually in the city of Toronto.
Narrowing everything down to 10 images was challenging given that I have gone out weekly throughout 2024 to make images and kept thousands of them. The images in this series hold up on their own while, also, developing a narrative when read beside one another.
When was this photograph taken? 2024 or 1964?
The use of black and white has the effect of confusing the viewer of the image’s temporality. This is accentuated by the sign in the photograph being from another generation. Adding power to the image are the two figures who are wandering through the early January snow, with the young woman looking down and over to the city’s garbage, and the little boy looking up past the trash to the graffiti on the wall. This speaks to the hopes and ambitions of youth and the practicality of maturity, while they are both literally passing by the abandoned garbage of the day.
This was one of the first images that I made of 2024 and it remained amongst my favourites throughout the year.
What is this woman so focused upon? How much has she seen during her lifetime and how shadowy are those memories?
Throughout the year I’ve spent time seeking out images that rely on reflections to strengthen the environment around the main subject(s) of photographs. The woman’s white hat and mask made her stand out through the windows, and then play nicely with the shadowy figures reflected in the glass. It’s this juxtaposition that brings the image to life in my eyes.
What does it mean to be an inhabitant of a major city?
This photograph shows the city from a different perspective than is typical of Toronto street photographers who are making images in the core. Still, the image captures ever present aspects of city life: mass transit, rapid development, and the isolation and anonymity of the residents as they move through their day.
I’ve been coming to this particular subway stop to make this image for 5 years. After years of visiting the same location I finally got the light, subject, and subway where I wanted them at the same time.
What did Toronto look like during its process of being built up in the contemporary era?
We are in a time of building but there are relatively few organic photographs that are deliberately capturing this development. Like images of old this photograph speaks to the relationship of people and the city that is growing (or metastasizing) around them.
Toronto is rapidly building density in its core. I’ve worked throughout the year to incorporate construction into my street images while, also, seeking elevated heights to capture the city’s transformation. The lines across the image draw the eye upwards and the construction worker on the railing serves to underscore the size of the development.
Well hello, madame – what gave you your sense of style?
The Saint Patrick’s Day parade is a major event in Toronto. I’ve been photographing it for years and regularly march in it to make images of the crowds. I like how the woman in this photograph is almost posing in her winter jacket — it gives her a sense of elegance and self-importance — while, above her, the sign suggests that she is happy and ranked #1. But it’s the man who is looking on at the right-hand side of the frame adds a degree of electricity to the image with his dourness in contrast to the woman’s more positive energy.
Someday in the future will we be amazed at the low cost of a veal sandwich or beverage?
This is one of those images that works, in part, because the ordering of the image isn’t quite right: the subject is looking away from the rest of the signs, which encourages the reader of the image to go from left to right which isn’t typical in Western culture. I also like his expression and how the contrast in the image draws the eye through the items for sale at the festival.
What’s happening here? What do you feel when you’re so close to this slightly obscured woman and her side-eye staring companion?
Like many street photographers, I try to make use of graffiti and other temporary art in the city when making images. I like how this image somewhat conceals the look that the older woman is giving the viewer, at the same time as she is getting a side eye from her companion. The contrast through the image also serves to create an effect foreground, middle, and background.
So this is summer! Children playing in the mist while the city towers above them, and a bird flees the city towards some less inhabited region.
This image captures the idealized life of being in the city, where people come out from their ever-growing towers to relax and play together. It is also one that hides the actual subjects, themselves, and in so doing conceals the participants in this space. Is this a playground of the elite’s children or a communal space used by all inhabitants of the city? For those who live here the answer is apparent but otherwise a degree of mystery may remain concerning the socio-economics of the subjects.
Swings let us throw our hair back and play with our suspended bodies while soaring above the ground; we enjoy a kind of freedom that is in opposition to our normal land based experiences.
Every year I go to the CNE’s Exhibition and get a little more comfortable looking for scenes to make images. This year I spent a bunch of time at this ride, and I think that this image captures the carefree playfulness that’s associated with the summer fair.
What is it like to be alone in the city and reflect on what once was, and what could become?
Like the first image in the set, this photograph conveys a sense of solitude in Canada’s largest city while also hearkening to a time past. Because this image is monochromatic it establishes a degree of ambiguity as to when the image was made and thus provides a sense of balance to the collection of images.
All of my images are located by city cross-streets and are are lightly processed using Apple Photos. I post new images daily to Glass.
Christopher Parsons an amateur Toronto-based documentary and street photographer, and has been making images for over a decade. His monochromatic photographs focus on little moments that happen on the streets and which record the ebb and flow of urban life over the course of years and decades.
His work often deliberately plays with the temporality of built environments and photographs themselves, and regularly uses temporal ambiguity to entice viewers into questioning what happened prior to, and following, the pressing of the shutter button.
It’s the time of year for people’s best-of roundups. Like last year I wanted to recognize stuff that meant a lot to my photography through 2024. And, this year, I’ve also added a short list of hopes for stuff in 2025!
The big change this year? I pretty well completely pivoted to my Leica Q2 and with only rare exceptions did I use the Ricoh GR IIIx or my iPhone 14 Pro. When I bought the Q2 it was, in part, to be able to capture images at night where there was little light. I’ve made images under these conditions that I’m happy with and I’ve come to learn how to better use the 28mm focal range. At this point I’ve created well over ten thousand frames over the year.1
I upgraded to the 11” iPad Pro (2024) and definitely appreciate how light the device is, and how vibrant the screen is. I continue to use an iPad Mini for most of my actual reading but write a lot of blog posts on the iPad Pro and do all my photo editing on it.
When I take my photowalks I’m always listening to a podcast or music on my AirPod Pros. However I’ve long had an issue with finding tips that best fit my ears; the ones in the box always slip out. I recently learned about, and bought, the SpinFit CP1025 (S/SS) and they’ve been game changing. I get a perfect fit and the AirPods stay in my ears. Highly recommend them!
I continue to post images to Glass each day. I’m still disappointed with their AI search, and especially disappointed that landscape viewing on the iPad has now been broken for about a year.2 Still, it’s a terrific community and a good place to post images regularly.
Apple One is key to my data management strategy. I’m still under the 2TB that is provided as part of the subscription though, with my current data use, I suspect that in 3-5 years I’ll need to expand that 2TB storage limit.
Lastly, while I’ve watched less photography YouTube I continue to appreciate YouTube Premium. It’s still about the most regularly used subscription service that I use on a regular basis.
Have I changed the apps that I rely on regularly since 2023?
Nope.
And so my best apps of 2024 include:
Since 2006 Toronto has hosted Nuit Blanche, where selected artists are invited to set up art installations from sundown at 7pm until sunrise at 7am the following day. For the past decade or so I’ve tried to get out and enjoy the exhibits. I usually try to walking from 1am until 7am when the installations are taken down.
This year many of the installations took place around Toronto’s downtown waterfront. This had the effect of clustering people in a common part of the city and enhancing the sense of togetherness associated with the art exhibits; in past years I often felt like I alone was still out at 7am but not this year!
Bay & Queens Quay, Toronto, 2024
Each year there are food stall and trucks, and this year was no exception. Even at 1 in the morning there were crowds who were looking to have a quick bite to carry them through the evening. I’d just arrived and had yet to feel the bite of hunger or thirst.
Lower Sherbourne & Queens Quay, Toronto, 2024
One of the exhibits this year included a series of skeletal shacks. They stood above us and we looked at what may happen when civilization degrades and this is what we remain left with.
Great Lakes Waterfront & Queen Quay, Toronto, 2024
Of course walking around this late at night meant there were often strong contrasts between shadow and light. I’ve visited this area of Toronto regularly over the past decade and captured people huddled in the same spot, but never with such dynamic contrast between the lit structure and the rest of the environment. I liked how the subjects were huddled away from the darkness that was just beyond the lit structure. Isn’t this the nature of humans: huddling in the light while the darkness is kept at bay?.
Dockside & Knapp, Toronto, 2024
Each year there are some exhibits that are at least slightly interactive. Every person who attended a particular film screening was first asked to pick up a custom hanger and think about it during the performance. It wasn’t self-apparent how this hanger necessarily mapped to film.
Queens Quay & Freeland, Toronto, 2024
This was the only colour image I made through the night. The exhibit projected videos of people’s homes on a condo wall and, beside it, the artist had set up a tent to represent how many of Toronto’s least fortunate must live their nights. This was one of the more poignant exhibits I saw through the evening.
Queens Quay & York, Toronto, 2024
A set of screens were set up in Love Park and rotated the images in them through the night. The eyes that regularly cropped up were eerie at that time of the early morning.
Great Lakes Waterfront & Harbour, Toronto, 2024
Continuing the theme of eyes, this separate video display regularly had an image of an eyeball looking into the audience. When it isolated the older woman I knew I had to hold onto the moment.
Spadina & Queens Quay, Toronto, 2024
One of the marque exhibits of the year were glowing fish that were placed in the harbour. Here, I’ve captured their luminescent being alongside one of the tall ships that is always docked; the effect is spectral, to my eye, with the fish racing towards the ghost-boat.
Bathurst & Queens Quay, Toronto, 2024
Hosting a project that raised the issue of disability inside a basketball court forced audiences to confront the ableism that permeates our lives, and especially contemporary sport. The exhibit forced audiences to acknowledge that disabled athletes have led the way in more accessible design that is now the norm for all athletes, disabled or not. By this time it was about 5am and the crowds were dying down, though spectators and attendees to the festival were still around in smaller numbers.
Richmond & Spadina, Toronto, 2024
This was the last exhibit that I documented and left with an image I was satisfied with. The artists were lowering a multi-coloured spider web that had been elevated above the attendees, when a sole last participant walked through the exhibit despite the efforts to tear it down by sundown. The subject is reaper-like in their image and spoke to the end of the exhibit, and the end of Nuit Blanche for 2024.
Queen & Chestnut, Toronto, 2024
On my way to breakfast I captured this image of Toronto’s City Hall as the sun was just starting to rise. All was quiet, including the parking garages, though the city had begun coming back to life once I got home an hour or so later to crawl into bed before a short nap ahead of afternoon activities.
Excited Pixels